


a ten-year concussion

by waveridden



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Season: COUNTER/Weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveridden/pseuds/waveridden
Summary: People don’t see him. They just don’t. That’s how ghosts work. Except for this strange woman, who can apparently see him perfectly. And hear him. And wants to talk to him. (In which Jace is a ghost haunting Addax's apartment, and Jamil can talk to him.)
Relationships: Addax Dawn/Jamil Quartz-Noble/Jace Rethal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: 2019 AU December Challenge





	a ten-year concussion

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the AUcember series, a self-made challenge where I try to write a new AU one-shot every day. You can read all of the AUcember fics in the collection linked above. Title is from Door by Caroline Polachek.
> 
> I chose not to tag this as MCD because nobody actually dies in the story, but it's worth saying that there are implications of death and grief, because this is a ghost AU. It doesn't get heavily into that, but this is your heads-up that those themes are definitely present.

“I’ve been practicing with the lights,” Jace says offhandedly. “I think I’ve finally gotten them to stop… doing that thing they do, you know?”

Addax doesn’t answer, because Addax can’t hear him. Jace is fully aware that Addax can’t hear him, but he likes to think that something gets through, sometimes. He’s pretty sure something actually does get through: sometimes he can write things on mirrors, and sometimes he gets solid enough that Addax does a double take.

Actually, that one might be bad, considering that Addax doesn’t have the context of knowing that Jace is a ghost.

Addax just goes about making his coffee like normal, extra strong but with extra cream. He’s humming a song, something that Jace swears he recognizes but can’t quite put together. There’s no extra musicality to his motions, no swaying or finger-snapping or anything like that, just a quiet melody underneath everything he does.

The light in the center of the kitchen is flickering again. Addax pauses in his humming to glare at it, just for a second, before he turns to his fridge.

“I can stop that,” Jace says brightly. “I can make it-” he lifts a hand up and focuses. He thinks about all the same abstract things he normally does: a sustained loud noise, a smile, a golden orb.

It works too well, for once: the light flares incandescently bright and then goes back to normal.

Addax turns to stare at the kitchen light, squinting at it. “Huh,” he says. He doesn’t start humming again afterwards.

Jace groans. Okay, maybe he was showing off a little bit, but now Addax is definitely going to know that something weird is happening. And that’s just a little… much for Jace. He doesn’t want Addax to freak out over the ghost in the apartment or anything.

“Come on,” he mutters.

Addax’s head snaps in his direction. Jace freezes. That’s new.

Slowly, Addax tilts his head. There’s something aggravatingly familiar about the gesture, but Jace can’t put it in context, can’t assign any kind of memory or emotion to it.

“Addax,” Jace says quietly, just to see. There’s no response this time, and Jace lets out a breath. “Damn it.”

Addax still doesn’t look away for a full minute. At last, he turns to pick up his coffee and heads out of the kitchen. There’s something tense to his shoulders, and Jace wants to reach out and plant a hand on his back, to try and get him to relax.

But he doesn’t touch Addax. He never touches Addax, because if he can cause lights to blow out with his mind, he doesn’t want to know what he can do to a living human body. It feels like there’s so much potential to go wrong, and it’s not worth risking Addax. Even if Jace still isn’t sure who Addax is, or who Addax was to him.

#

When Addax gets back from work, there’s someone with him. Jace can hear the voices outside, laughing softly together. It makes him feel - well, he doesn’t know what this emotion is, and he’s not sure how much ownership he can truly claim over it. But he knows that he misses Addax. He always misses Addax.

The door swings open, and a woman steps inside. She’s lovely, with a pale purple afro and lipstick to match. She’s wearing a heavy coat that Jace can immediately tell is expensive, and is probably much warmer than it looks. She’s smiling as she steps inside and toes off her shoes. Addax is in the middle of some story, and she’s listening closely, making affirmative noises and laughing at all the right places.

Addax doesn’t have people over often. At least, Jace doesn’t think he does. The rules of ghost time are a little fuzzy to him. He’s pretty sure that he still exists when Addax isn’t around, but he doesn’t remember most of that time, and even when Addax is there it’s not a guarantee that Jace is going to remember. He’s pretty sure he’s lost full days before.

Still, this woman moves around the apartment like she knows it. She rests her coat over the arm of the couch, asks Addax questions about work and what he’s been up to. Addax seems comfortable around her; the two of them end up sitting close together on the couch, hushed and loud in turn.

Jace doesn’t listen too closely to what they’re talking about. It’s partly because he’s sure it’s private, and he still feels weird about being able to spy on these strangers. And it’s partly because, on some level, he is blindingly jealous of something that’s going on here.

He wanders off part way through the conversation, into the closed bathroom door. It’s easy to practice with the lights in here, because Addax never actually seems to notice the lights flickering on and off. It’s a good way to kill time.

Until he hears a knock on the door.

Jace ignores it at first, because it’s probably just the woman who’s visiting. Addax is one of those people who always keeps the bathroom door closed, and she’s probably just being polite. Plenty of people do that.

And then the door opens, and the woman says, “The couch is much more comfortable.”

“What,” Jace says, because there’s no way this is happening.

“The couch,” she repeats, voice kind. “Addax went to pick up some takeout for us, so we have a little time to talk, and I’d rather not do it here.”

Jace stares at her. He knows he should respond, should say literally anything, but he’s too overwhelmed by confusion to even think about it.

She tilts her head. “You haven’t had a conversation in a while,” she says sympathetically. Jace shakes his head, because there’s nothing else to do, and she smiles. “That’s okay. I’m gonna make a cup of tea for myself. If you feel like talking, we have time. You can just come out to the living room when you’re ready.”

And then she leaves, presumably to go to the kitchen and make that tea, and Jace is stuck blinking hard. People don’t see him. They just don’t. That’s how ghosts work.

Except for this strange woman, who can apparently see him perfectly. And hear him. And wants to talk to him.

Jace gets to the couch as the woman settles down, holding her mug of tea. She tucks her feet underneath her and looks at him. “You can sit.”

“It doesn’t make much of a difference to me,” Jace points out, but he sinks down onto the couch anyways. It seems polite. “You can see me.”

“I can.”

“And hear me, obviously.”

“Of course.” She smiles and takes a sip of her tea.

Jace takes a deep breath. He doesn’t need to, of course, but this is the most real he’s felt in a long time. “Did you know me?”

“You think that’s why I can see you,” she guesses. “No, unfortunately, that’s not how it works. I can just see ghosts, regardless of who you are.”

“Did I know Addax?” Jace asks, without meaning to.

“I don’t know that either.” She sips her tea again and then gives him a considering look. “Do you not remember?”

“I don’t remember much of anything,” Jace admits. “I just know that sometimes when I see Addax, he seems… familiar. Like… have you ever had a dream, and then you see something that was in the dream, but you don’t remember what the dream was about?”

She raises her eyebrows. “No, I can’t say I have. Psychic dreams are pretty impressive.”

“Says the person who can talk to ghosts,” Jace mutters.

The woman laughs at that, not quite a head-thrown-back laugh but still something coming from deep inside. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. I’m Jamil, by the way.”

“Jace.”

“It’s good to meet you, Jace.” Jamil gives him a smile, warm and genuine. “How long have you been haunting this particular apartment?”

“A few months, I think.” Jace pauses. “Am I haunting? Is that what’s going on?”

“If you’re not paying rent and he can’t see you, I think that’s haunting. Or squatting, but I would say that incorporeal squatting is just haunting.”

“I like incorporeal squatting. Makes me sound more rebellious than I actually am.”

Jamil nods sagely. “And I can tell you’re such a rebel. A rebel and a menace.”

“I’ve been menacing Addax a lot,” Jace says. “As you can tell, when I was hiding in the bathroom and trying to turn the lights on and off.”

Her eyes light up. “You can do that?”

“I can try.” Jace looks up at the light in the center of the living room -  _ hum, smile, something gold _ \- and it flips on easily. It’s even a normal level of brightness.

Jamil snaps her fingers in an imitation of applause and takes a long drink of tea. She’s smiling, Jace can tell, and god, he actually really missed talking to people, who knew? “Pretty cool trick,” she says. “Can you turn it off?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I blow out the lights.”

“Oh my god,” Jamil says, and snickers. “Addax has been saying that he keeps calling his landlord to get an electrician sent up here-”

Jace groans. “Oh, no-”

“He’s been having  _ the worst luck _ with lights, he keeps telling me-”

“Jamil-”

“You are a menace!” she says delightedly. “I knew it as soon as I saw you.”

Jace buries his face in his hands. “I thought I was a nice ghost.”

“Nice poltergeist, maybe.” Jamil smiles teasingly, and Jace finds himself wishing that he could reach out and give her a playful shove, like friends do. Like people with corporeal bodies do. As it is, he just smiles back at her, and she shakes her head. “A menace,” she repeats.

“And here I was trying to be friendly,” Jace sighs, put-upon. “Trying to make friends with the owner of the apartment that I’m squatting in, and trying to make friends with his friends, and trying to keep him on his toes for apartment maintenance.”

Jamil opens her mouth to say something, eyes sparkling with mirth, but then there’s the sound of a key in the lock. Jace stands up immediately, heart suddenly in his throat as the door swings open.

“Traffic was so much better than I was expecting,” Addax says. He has a scarf wound around his face, so his voice is muffled, but he pulls it down as he comes inside and closes the door. “And the cashier at the pizza place messed up my order, so we got free breadsticks, so I hope you’re h-”

He stops. He stops, Jace realizes, because he turned around, and he’s looking directly at Jace.

“Addax?” Jamil says quietly, gently.

Addax seems to come back to himself all at once, taking a deep breath and looking back at Jamil. “Sorry,” he says, and he sounds embarrassed but there’s something else there that Jace can’t quite parse, something deeper and more raw. “I thought I saw- it’s not important.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Addax says, and Jace can tell it’s a lie. He knows what Addax sounds like when he’s lying. Why does he know what Addax sounds like when he’s lying?

Jace looks at Jamil in a panic, but she just nods at Addax. “Well, I’m ready for pizza,” she says. “Even made myself some tea.”

Addax makes a face. “Tea and pizza?”

“Hey, you can’t help it when you have a craving. I didn’t realize you were a tea drinker, you have quite the collection.”

“I used to live with a tea drinker,” Addax says, a strange note to his voice. “I always have a stash around now, just… just because.”

Jamil doesn’t ask any questions, which is ridiculous, because Jace is full to bursting with questions. But her eyes cut across to him for a second, just long enough that Jace can tell she means it as a warning. She can’t act like he’s here, because then Addax is going to have questions, and there won’t be easy answers.

Addax moves past Jace to set the pizza box down on the coffee table. Jace takes it as an opportunity to take his leave, and he means to glide back into the bathroom, but instead he finds himself gravitating towards the kitchen. He’s never really snooped through Addax’s stuff - doesn’t often have enough corporeal control to even try - but something about the tea seems… important.

Jace focuses his energy on the cabinet where he knows Addax keeps the coffee. It swings open, thankfully quietly, to reveal a few boxes and tins of tea. It’s a small selection, mostly generic-brand black and herbal teas.

But there’s one tin, towards the back, that catches Jace’s attention. The label is turned to the side, so it’s hard to read, but he recognizes the color of the label. It’s pomegranate green tea, loose leaf, something that’s only available at a couple of markets in the city. Jace can suddenly see those markets in his mind’s eye, can imagine the shelves and the way they smelled. He knows exactly what this tea tastes like. He’d always preferred it iced.

It’s his favorite tea. Addax has a stash of Jace’s favorite tea.

“Oh,” Jace breathes, something heavy and awful weighing in his chest. He was Addax’s tea-drinker. And now he doesn’t even properly remember Addax.

#

Jamil finds him in the bathroom before she leaves. She turns on the sink so the sound of the water drowns out her voice as she says, softly, “You okay?”

“He has a stash of my favorite tea,” Jace says dully. “And I don’t even remember living with him.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamil says, voice colored with real sympathy. “I don’t have a lot of resources about ghost things, but I think I have friends who will. I’m going to see what I can find out about restoring your memories.”

Jace blinks. “You’re coming back?”

“Of course,” she says, like it should be obvious. “I’m not just going to leave you, especially not if you know Addax. I want to help you.”

He swallows, throat tight. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles, lightning-bright and sly, and Jace is in awe of it for a second. “Besides, if you’re a tea guy, you can teach me tips and tricks for brewing tea. I’m awful at it. It always ends up tasting like grass when I do it.”

Jace laughs in surprise. “It’s not that hard!”

“It’s absolutely that hard,” she says, mock-offended. “I’ll come back when I can. I won’t always be able to talk to you, but I can be here.”

“Thank you,” Jace says. And then, because once is inadequate, because any number of times is inadequate, he says, “I mean it, Jamil, thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

She smiles at him again. “You’re welcome,” she says, soft and sincere. And for the first time in a long time, Jace feels warmed through.

**Author's Note:**

> If you also like ghosts and polyamory, come say hi on Tumblr/Twitter @waveridden!


End file.
